


The Love You're Given

by Picturemedrowning



Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Picturemedrowning/pseuds/Picturemedrowning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is from Jack Garrett - The Love You're Given</p></blockquote>





	The Love You're Given

‘His body hit the door before he knocked on it. It woke me up. I sat right up in bed like someone had let a gun off in front of my face. It was, I don’t know, maybe three am. I wasn’t sleeping well so I got up to see who it was and kick their ass, but I saw Dean outside my room. He was leaning against the wall in the corridor just staring at nothing. I grabbed the sheet off my bed and covered myself up and I let him in. He was drunk.’

‘Do you know where he’d been before he came to you?’

‘He didn’t tell me anything, I didn’t ask. It wasn’t that kind of visit.’

‘What kind was it?’

‘He wanted to screw.’ 

‘Did he say that?’

‘It was _all_ he said. He was desperate; I don’t know why I did it. I shouldn’t have. I took advantage of him, I know. But he wanted it, he was begging for it. Grabbing at the sheet trying to rip it away, shoving me around, aggressive. He was provoking me. At first I told him no, that he should sober up and get some sleep. That he was embarrassing himself. But he got down on his fuckin’ knees, okay, and he begged me to fuck him. Maybe I’m weak. Maybe I liked seeing him like that. That’s the kind of relationship we had.’

_'Seth, Seth come on, just one more time, god I want you, please, come on.’ Dean slipped his hand up Seth’s thigh, warm and rough. He pressed his face against Seth’s hardening cock through the gathered sheets and murmured, ‘come on, come on.’_

‘And did you?’

‘I told you, he was desperate. I pity fucked him.’

_Dean riding in Seth’s lap, talking under his breath and Seth could barely hear over the sounds in his head, he would never say Dean’s name out loud like that, ever, but it was so loud-_

‘It wasn’t…something more?’

_Seth’s fingers knotted in the damp tangle of Dean’s hair, pulling him down and fucking up into him, rocking his hips, using him, Dean’s nails dragging ruts of dark pink into his shoulders, ‘Fuck, fuck, you feel s-so-’_

‘I don’t know what to tell you. We aren’t friends, everyone knows that. I did some bad shit to him, career-wise. I fucked him in more ways than one, I guess you could say. You could also say the way I’m talking about him right now is in poor taste but you don’t know him like I do. He wasn’t scared of people talking shit about him; he wasn’t scared of losing his job. Fear was not the issue. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know what it feels like. When he was sucking my dick he wasn’t scared, he was just drunk and fuckin' lonely.’

‘So you had intimate relations with Dean that night. Were you close previously?’

‘As close as it gets. We… it was intense. The kinda thing that you can’t sustain for too long. I mean we both knew it was going to end in a big messy way, and it did. But when it was good it was like the most natural, visceral thing in the world, I mean we were in deep. Sometimes he was the only person I saw for days on end. We’d lock ourselves in a hotel room and eat and sleep and fuck and drink and we wouldn’t come out until our phones were ringing off the hook and we were hours away from being fired. We didn’t give a shit.’

_‘Fuck ‘em, we don’t need any of that petty crap. We need each other baby boy, that’s it. We’re fuckin’ golden.’ Dean blowing blue-grey smoke up into the air, squeezing a cigarette between his finger and thumb, Seth’s head resting on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart._

‘Dean has that effect on people. He amplifies the crazy in your head, drowns out all the clarity, makes you feel sane when really you’re losing your mind.’

‘Would you say your relationship with Dean had self-destructive inclinations?’

‘Dean likes to destroy things. He destroyed us, slowly, in his own way. He pushed me. He wanted me to make the move because he likes to feel pain; he likes to be _hurt_ by people. I know this is making me sound pretty bad but you gotta understand – he thrives on disorder and fuckin’ misery and resentment. He’s hardwired for conflict. He planted hatred inside me, little by little. He made me hate him, and all along I thought it was my idea. He induced a feeling of insane rage in me, somehow. Its kind of a gift – he’s good at getting in people’s heads. He’s a manipulator. I guess we have that in common. But he engineers his own ruin instead of his own victory. You asked if he was self-destructive? Its practically his middle name.’

'Was he often drunk?'

_Seven months ago Seth calling Roman and after the fifth time he finally picked up, and Seth cut off his barrage of curses with something that stopped him dead and silent like he’d been shot – ‘You need to come pick your fuckin’ brother up.’ The word stung his throat and he knew it stung Roman too. ‘He’s paralytic again. You can drive him to the hospital this time. I’m done.’ Tears burning his eyes, blurring Dean’s form as he reached up weakly, Seth’s name the only thing spilling from his red, wet mouth as Seth closed the door on him-_

'He said it calmed him down.'

'Did it?'

'Not usually.'

‘Did you talk about anything…after?’

‘It was…the first time in a while. I kinda freaked out but I didn’t do anything about it. Just laid there and waited for him to leave. But he didn’t. I looked at him and suddenly for some reason, I felt like the worst piece of shit on earth. I regretted everything in one huge moment, like I know it’s a cliché but everything just hit me at once. I was going to say something but he started to talk first so I shut the hell up.’

‘And what did he talk about?’

‘He told me a story. I’m not going to do it justice because he’s the best storyteller I ever heard. He always used to rag me about butchering his stories. He said I had no gravitas. The only person in the fuckin’ world to use a word like _gravitas_ in casual conversation. Whatever. It was pretty dark and I couldn’t see much of his face but I knew from his voice that he was upset. Properly. Not angry, foaming at the mouth, wild-eyed. He was quiet. I think a little more sober, maybe. He told me a story about an overpass back in Ohio that he used to walk over a lot on his way home from some shitty job he had when he was a kid. He got me straight away. I could’a fallen asleep to his voice. I think it reminded me of old times. But I kinda knew this was important, so I stuck it out. He doesn’t open up a lot. He said he used to pass this place every day. Let the sound of traffic push him towards home, away from the noise and dirt of the city. He said his dad tried to buy him a pushbike once, to make up for slapping him around when he’d had one too many whiskeys with his pals. He left it at home because his shitty dead-beat father didn’t deserve the acceptance of a half-assed apology like that. Even though his shoes were fucked and worn out and he didn’t have enough to buy a new pair.’

_Seth’s throat dry and his body tense, gazing through the half-light at Dean’s profile while he spoke and stared, unseeing at the ceiling. Seth wanted to touch him._

‘He said slowly somehow it became one of his favourite places. And after a while he began to stop there for a smoke, he’d sit on the edge and let his feet hang over the side and count the cars that went by underneath. He’d smoke his cigarette right up to the filter and sometimes past it, because he didn’t want to waste any. And he’d sit there, even if it was raining, even if it was burning fucking hot. Because in all that noise, he said it was his place of quiet. Somewhere he could let his head just go. I don’t know what a nineteen year-old Dean’s head would be like but I imagine its pretty fuckin messy. As time went on this place became like a sanctuary for him, I think that’s the word he used. Sanctuary. Like he was an endangered fuckin animal being hunted. I guess he just wanted somewhere safe to go. He said he used to play games there. Like if four cars of the same colour went by, he’d move an inch closer to the edge. He’d do this for an hour, sometimes two and he said a few times he got so close that a gentle breeze could’ve pushed him over.'

‘Was that all?’

_Dean lying on his back stinking like sex and tequila, twisting to look at Seth and his voice was hoarse and so deep Seth thought maybe he was crying. It struck his chest with physical pain, real and severe and unforgiving. ‘You’re the breeze. You pushed me over the edge.’_

‘Yeah. That was it.’

‘He didn’t mention where he might go next? It’s already been a week, I’m sure you’re aware.’

‘He left that night, I haven’t heard anything from him since.’

_Dean sleeping properly for the first time in fourteen months, his arm flung over Seth’s waist. Seth watching as the room brightened and not daring to move in case everything broke apart again._

‘Can you make a guess as to where he might be?’

_Dean whispering into his neck as he woke up, before he even opened his eyes ‘I’m not ready to hate you. I don’t wanna feel like that anymore.’ Seth touching his jaw with barely shaking fingers, pressing his mouth to Dean’s temple, ‘Then go back to sleep.’_

‘Maybe you should check some highways in Ohio.’

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Jack Garrett - The Love You're Given


End file.
